They halted, staring in shock and confusion.
"Where the hell are we?" Kaito's voice cracked with desperation. "From the looks of it, it feels like Earth—but not any Earth we know. Maybe some kind of military base. Or maybe that woman was right, and we really have been abducted. This wall is too alien to be man-made."
"We shouldn't be here," Amara added softly.
Exhaustion broke through her composure. She suddenly screamed in frustration, crouching and then springing back up. "What the f**k!" she shouted in Hindi. Her chest heaved as she clutched her knees in an effort to calm herself. Her heart pounded wildly, and her vision fogged until her eyes went dazed.
Kaito frowned, wondering if she hadn't fully recovered from the landing.
Then her flashes came.
Her mind ripped open, forcing her back to the deserts of Rajasthan. She was a scavenger, her life nothing but a cycle of search and barter. She remembered the blistering heat, the sting of sand across her skin, the glint of metal buried in the dunes. The memory sharpened—the moment she uncovered a data core. The scream in the wind. The shadows of the Vexari descending. Blackness is swallowing everything.
"Oh, f**k, what the f**k," she whispered in disbelief, this time in English, her accent breaking through.
"Are you alright?" Kaito asked quickly.
She brushed him off, whispering the names of her friends, refusing to let them die forgotten.
When Kaito approached again, his voice softened. "I'm alright," she insisted.
"What was it?" he asked.
Her eyes glistened with restrained pain. "The aliens. Oh God… my friends."
Amara was inherently rational and emotionally grounded. She made decisions quickly, then acted. Even now, she forced herself to come to terms with her situation, though it sickened her. She prayed she would never see her friends here—not here, not in this place. This place was about to become hell.
Any intelligent person could have drawn the same conclusion.
Suddenly, Kaito staggered. A sharp pain tore through his skull, and he bent forward, reaching out for support that wasn't there.
Amara's eyes cleared instantly, and she caught him, preventing his fall.
Then his flashes came.
He was back in a half-drowned Tokyo, a city submerged yet stubbornly alive. He swam through flooded streets, a courier navigating canals of ruin. The salt of the water filled his mouth. Neon lights flickered against black waves. And then—the sound of his sister's voice, calling from a rooftop. He had been crossing the water to reach her when the shimmer fell, and he was taken.
He pushed Amara away, collapsing to the ground in despair.
"You remembered, too?" Amara asked softly.
"My sister…" His voice cracked. "I don't know if she's still alive."
"You wouldn't want her here. I hope she's still alive," she replied gently.
Amara pieced everything together, her mind sharper now. What she wanted most was a way out.
She rose suddenly, breaking into a sprint. "Come on. Let's run along the wall and find an exit. Not too close. This wall is bad news."
Back at the base, the rest of the group wandered through the ruins, scanning the area with uneasy eyes. Short and tall buildings stretched across the horizon in ruins, some barely standing, others crumbled to dust. Between them grew wild trees, stubborn bushes, and scattered vines. A river cut its way through the landscape, a lake shaped by the passing of time.
"At least it feels like Earth," Jalen muttered, glancing around. "But what the hell happened to this place?"
The environment felt both familiar and alien, as though it belonged to Earth but carried a strangeness that refused to be ignored.
In truth, more than two centuries had passed since they were captured. But none of them knew it. Only one, Xavier, silently wondered just how much time had gone by.
Xavier—Caucasian, copper-black hair, hazel-green eyes—stood about 6'1". Broad-shouldered and slightly muscular, he kept his thoughts to himself. He had already concluded they had been abducted, even before Kira voiced her suspicions.
Educated and precise, Xavier relied heavily on proof before opening his mouth. Yet he was no coward. He acted decisively, moving toward answers without hesitation. Perhaps that was why, instead of following Amara and Kaito, he turned his attention to the building.
"Maybe there are answers inside," he thought, his face set, his steps sharp with determination.
Kira followed next, then Elira, one by one the others—all moving cautiously, each pace measured as though the ground itself might betray them.
Elira's dark brown, wavy hair brushed her shoulders as she walked. Her warm brown skin glowed under the dim light, and her soft hazel eyes darted between shadows. At about 5'8" and in her early thirties, she looked gently built but carried strong, steady hands.
The air inside the building was sterile, unnervingly precise. Cold but not frigid, perfectly balanced. A dimly lit passage stretched before them, flickering wall panels flashing faint reflections like half-broken mirrors.
The walls felt wrong.
Markings—human, yet desperate—covered their surfaces. Some were written in blood, smeared yet visible, others carved directly into the concrete. They overlapped one another in chaotic layers and in different languages.
Nyah leaned closer, squinting. Her full black curls shifted around her face, her rich brown skin glistening faintly as she studied the walls. In her late twenties, standing 5'9" with a compact, strong frame, she radiated focus.
"This is human writing," she said firmly. "It looks like there were others here before us."
Elira frowned, her soft voice breaking the silence. "So… where are they now? This place feels abandoned."
One carving stood out among the rest.
Jalen reached for it, tracing the rough grooves with his palm. His voice dropped to a murmur. "We are runners. We are prey. There is no way out." His hand slid lower, brushing across the next line. "Always running. Always staying alive for the next Hunt."
Theo, tall and lanky with pale skin, early thirties, and long blond hair tied into a messy knot, leaned close. His piercing blue eyes narrowed. "What does it mean?" he whispered.
Jalen turned, shrugging helplessly.
Some of the runners bent to study other inscriptions. Their expressions shifted—confusion tightening into fear. Others pressed forward, determined to keep moving, though the words hung over them like a curse.
The corridor hummed faintly, antiseptic and hollow.
Eventually, they entered a cafeteria.
Unlike the ruins outside, it was pristine.
Wall panels glowed faintly, unbroken. Long tables and chairs stood in neat rows, untouched by dust or time. A refrigerator hummed softly in the corner, beside a large stove, counters, and cabinets. Everything.
They moved past the cafeteria, checking nearby rooms. Toilets. Empty quarters. Small offices stripped bare. Every door they opened revealed the same sterile preservation—spaces clean, untouched, and slightly dusty.
After they regrouped, Xavier finally broke the silence. His tone was calm but heavy.
"Years have passed outside. You can see it in the ruins—the war, the decay. But this place…" He gestured to the cafeteria around them. "This place looks perfectly preserved. Untouched. As if it was prepared for us."
Jalen turned toward him, eyebrows drawn. "Prepared for us? What do you mean?"
Xavier's voice sharpened. "Think! There are no transformers, no visible wiring, no power lines. Yet the lights are on. The fridge works. The stove works. Does that make sense to you?"
He slammed a hand against one of the tables, the sharp sound echoing through the room. "This isn't the Earth I remember. Something about this place is wrong."
Their faces paled. For reasons they could not explain, the memories of the invasion and the collapse of civilization were gone—snuffed out. They remembered only the day before it began. The year 2044.
Perhaps it was better that way.
"No wonder those two ran off," Jalen muttered, referring to Amara and Kaito.
"Trust me," Xavier said firmly. "There are more answers in here than out there. We just need to keep looking, piece by piece."
Jalen didn't argue, though his restless eyes darted around the room. He was impulsive by nature, driven by instinct rather than reason. How he had survived this long before capture remained a mystery.
The group pressed upstairs. The second floor revealed rows of barracks, shared toilets, and a single communal bathing chamber.
Kira wrinkled her nose. "Only one shower?" she said, disappointment clear in her tone.
Xavier glanced at her. "You planning on staying here?"
"God, no!" she shot back instantly.
It was just like her—quick to find flaws, quicker to point them out.
They descended again, and it was Alexei who spoke next.
"This was definitely a military base," he said in his thick accent, his voice steady but weighted with doubt. Cropped light brown hair framed his pale face, and his ice-blue eyes seemed to pierce the walls themselves. At 6'2" and in his early thirties, broad and powerful, his presence filled the hall.
"I suspected as much, but the second floor confirms it—the barracks. Still… the roof is different. Completely alien. The same material as the pods. In all my years of service, I've never seen anything like it. If I didn't know better, I'd call it a test site for human subjects. But even then, there's this alien feeling I can't shake."
"You're right," Xavier agreed quietly. "We need to verify before drawing conclusions."
Just as they were about to leave, Jalen's voice rang out.
"Hey! Check this out!"
He dragged something heavy from the corner of the cafeteria room. A crate, forged from the same black substance as the pods. Too heavy to lift, it scraped loudly across the floor as he pulled it forward. Strange markings glimmered faintly along its surface.
The sound drew everyone's attention.
"What is it?" Sera asked sharply.
Sera was tall, in mid-twenties, and lean, her blonde hair braided tightly, her storm-gray eyes cutting into the crate as if trying to see inside. Her pale skin carried a cold undertone, making her gaze all the more piercing.
Some of the group edged closer, curiosity pulling them forward. Others backed away, fear written on their faces, unwilling to risk whatever the alien container might hold.
Without hesitation, Jalen forced the lid open.
Inside were rows of tin cans. Ordinary in shape, human in design—no labels.
Hunger struck him immediately. His stomach ached so sharply it felt as if he hadn't eaten in weeks.
He grabbed one, pried it open, and scooped the contents into his mouth.
It was delicious. He devoured it as fast as he could, then reached for another. Then another.
The others stared in stunned silence, waiting for him to collapse.
But nothing happened.
Kira's voice cut in, sharp and scolding. "Didn't it even cross your mind that it could be poisoned?"
Jalen wiped his mouth, smirking. "If they wanted us dead, they wouldn't have dropped us from the sky alive just to kill us with canned food."
He held up another can, his grin crooked. "This food is here because they want us alive. At least for now."
Kira's lips pressed into a hard line. She said nothing, though her sharp eyes lingered on him. Perhaps, she thought, Jalen wasn't as foolish as he first appeared.
The hunger was too much. One by one, the others gave in, tearing open the cans, devouring their contents. For a moment, nothing else mattered. The food consumed them as much as they consumed it.
Suddenly, one of the runners dropped a can, his hands trembling. Then another followed. One by one, they fell to their knees—not from poisoning, but from something far more invasive.